


After the End

by kaleidoscopes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Friendship, Gen, Post-Trespasser, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:32:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6666040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidoscopes/pseuds/kaleidoscopes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments between Moira Lavellan and her friends after the events of Trespasser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cullen

_Blood. Searing pain. Trying to run but unable to move. Echos of voices all around her. Blinding green light and then sudden darkness._

Moira woke with a start, thrashing in the plush Orlesian bed, hair damp with sweat and a scream in her throat.

“Moira, Moira, shh, darling, shh…” Cullen murmured as he clutched her shoulder tight.

“Cullen? Wh-what are you doing here?” Moira scrambled to sit up, screaming in pain as she put pressure on what remained of her left arm. Cullen uncorked a potion and raised it to her lips.

“Drink, come on now," he urged. His brows were knit together, frustrated that he couldn’t take away her pain. He would rather he was in her place, so she wouldn’t have to suffer.

“Creators damn it. Fuck!” Moira growled. “It hurts,” she said as she squirmed in pain.

“I know, darling, I know. Just let that potion work,” he said as he dabbed at her face with a cool, wet cloth. He watched her as her eyes glazed over and her body seemed to relax.

“W-what,” she started, then shook her head as if to clear the fog from her mind, “what happened? Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone is fine, perfectly safe. Don’t worry about anything.”

“My-my arm? It’s gone?” Her voice was a tremulous whisper, barely loud enough to be heard.

“Y-yes. I’m sorry, darling, it couldn’t be saved.”

“So the Mark, it’s gone too?” She seemed to deflate at this, body slumping and eyes downcast.

“Yes. Just relax, it’s going to be okay.” He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear as she began to drift off back to sleep. “I’m here,” he whispered.

When Moira awoke again, Cullen was still there, head slumped forward in sleep, her hand loosely held in his. Moira stayed very still, just listening to his deep, even breathing. Waking up together was one of the things she missed the most about their relationship. She sighed louder than she had meant to and he jerked awake.

“Moi! Are you okay? What’s wrong? Are you in pain? What am I saying, of course you’re in pain…”

“Cullen, it’s alright, calm down,” she said. “The pain is, well…” She grimaced.

Cullen looked at the clock in the room. “It’s almost time for your next dose, might as well take it now,” he said as he uncorked a bottle for her. He stared at her with frantic, searching eyes as she gulped the potion down. Searching for what, she didn’t know.

“Cullen, you don’t have to stay here. Y-you don’t-” She didn’t know what she was trying to say.

“If you want me to leave-”

“No!” she said abruptly, cutting him off, then in a smaller voice, “no, of course not. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Of course,” he said before clearing his throat. “No matter what happens between us, I will always love you and be here for you.”

Moira mumbled something that Cullen couldn’t quite catch, already dozing back off, and he gave her hand a squeeze as he sat back down to resume his vigil over her.


	2. Dorian and Iron Bull

The only sound in the room was Moira’s ragged breathing and the clatter of the teacup and saucer shaking in her hand.  _ My hand,  _ she thought to herself,  _ my only hand.  _ At this her lip started to quiver and tears welled up again.  _ Damn it, not again. _ Dorian slipped into the room with uncharacteristic silence just as her tears started to fall.

“Now, now, I’ll have none of that,” he said softly, kindly, as he walked over to the bed. He sat down next to her and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her tears away. Moira sniffed, stifling her tears.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Oh,  _ amicus _ , don’t apologize. Never apologize for your feelings. If you want to cry, then cry.”

“I’m afraid if I really start crying, I’ll never stop.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“This,” Dorian gestured dismissively, “this isn’t forever.”

“But this,” Moira nodded down to the remains of her left arm, “this is forever. This is a part of me gone forever, Dorian. H-how do I go on after this?”

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” he said as he rose and crossed the room in long strides. Moira’s brows knitted together in confusion as she was left alone in the quiet room.

When Dorian returned, it was with the Iron Bull. The Qunari’s eyes swept the room before landing on Moira. He smiled kindly at her.

“Bull?” Moira asked, puzzled.

“You wanted to know how to go on after losing a part of yourself,” Dorian explained as he sat back down.

Bull pulled up a chair to sit next to the bed, and took Moira’s hand in his. “Boss,” he murmured as he stroked her hand. Moira’s breath came in great shaky bursts, as if she was just barely restraining herself. “There is a phrase in Qunlat,  _ asala-taar-  _ it translates to “soul sickness,” it happens all the time to soldiers, or anyone that’s gone through some real shit. It’s like I told you once, you just wake up and can’t think of a single reason to go on living after all that you’ve gone through.”

“What’s the point?” Moira asked in a small voice, barely above a whisper, her eyes unfocused. Dorian brushed a stray curl from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“The point-the point is that you’re not alone, Boss.”

“Never,” Dorian chimed in. “And we’re here for you, for however long you need us.”

“I can’t-I won’t be the Inquisitor anymore. How can you have a one-armed Inquisitor?”

“How can you have a one-eyed mercenary captain?” Bull shot back.

Moira thumped her head back against the ornate headboard and closed her eyes. “I can still feel it, you know?”

“Yeah, that happens,” Bull said. “That’s normal.”

“It’s fucked up, that’s what it is…” Moira muttered.

“That too, Boss, that too. Listen, you’ll get through this like you get through everything else- by fighting. Our dragon hunting days aren’t over.”

“Bull, we keep hunting dragons and they’ll have to change this Age to something else. The Lack of Dragons Age.” Moira gave a small giggle at her bad joke.

“It’s good to see you smile,” Dorian said.

“It feels good. Thank you, guys. Really, thank you.”


	3. Sera

Moira curled up in a tighter ball when she heard the door open, shutting her eyes tight and sighing. She hadn’t left the room for two weeks. She listened to the footsteps to discern who it was this time. _Plodding, shuffling, loud. Definitely Sera._

“Inky?” Sera whispered as she walked closer to the bed.

“Still here, Sera, still here,” Moira muttered.

“Brought you tea and biscuits,” Sera said as she laid down the tray. “Wanna sit up and eat?” There was a hard edge behind her kind words, and Moira knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Moira rolled over to look at her friend, her expression blank and hollow. Moira’s face had grown gaunt and pale. She scooched herself up, putting pressure on her right arm to prop herself up and grunted with the effort. “Thanks,” she said, her voice hoarse. She grabbed the tea, raising the dainty cup up to her mouth and sipping gingerly. As she raised her hand to her face, she could see blood still under her long fingernails from the battle with the Qunari.

Sera reached out a thin-fingered hand to brush a limp and dirty curl from Moira’s face. “Maybe after you’re done, we can dunk you in the bath, yeah?”

“That bad, huh?” Moira said with a weak smile. Sera’s grimace was answer enough. She knew she had to be a mess. The last time she had had a proper bath was the opening day of the Exalted Council. “The healers said not to get the bandages wet, so I might need help.”

“Inky, don’t you worry bout a thing,” Sera said, thumb brushing along Moira’s prominent cheekbone. It worried her to see Moira looking so weak and helpless. “I’m going to get the maids, have them bring some water, okay?” Moira nodded, grabbing a biscuit from the tray and nibbling on it. It was more for show than any real desire to eat. Everything tasted of ashes anyway.

When the maids had filled the large tub at last, Sera helped Moira stand up and walk to the wash room. Steam wafted from the large tub, filling the room with the scent of elfroot and vanilla. Moira wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the Orlesians did know how to do some things better- like luxury. She gazed at her reflection in the large mirror and was appalled at the woman who stared back at her. The greasy, matted down curls, the translucent skin stretched thin over her gaunt face, the sunken, red rimmed eyes- this couldn’t be her. She gave a hiccupping sob and Sera turned quickly to wrap Moira in a tight hug.

“Shh, shh, Inky…” she murmured as she held Moira tight. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned off, it’ll make you feel better. Just like new,” Sera said as she released Moira from her hold and started to lift up her nightgown. “Arm up now.” Moira raised her arm to allow Sera to pull the dirty garment off of her and throw it to the floor. If she had been more like herself, she would have had a moment of insecurity at being naked, but as it was, she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Sera pulled a stool over to the tub and plopped down, patting the side of the tub. Moira stepped up to the tub timidly and dangled her fingers in the perfectly warm water. Sera gave her a reassuring smile and a nod. Moira whimpered as she lowered herself into the water, careful to keep her stump from getting wet. It was if all her muscles sighed in relief as she submerged herself.

“Tilt back, let me get at that hair of yours,” Sera said. Moira tilted her head back, letting her hair fan out in the water. Sera grabbed a bar of fragrant soap from an ornate tray next to the tub and began to work it through Moira’s hair, her nails scratching at Moira’s scalp.

“Sera? Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, thank you, but…”

“Because you deserve it. It doesn’t matter that you’re all elfy. You matter. You matter to me. Shite, now you’ve made me go all mushy.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Moira said with a small smile.

“You best not. I know where you sleep,” Sera muttered as she sluiced water over Moira’s head, washing the soap out.


	4. Cole

“Red, raw, rough, your mind cries out for relief.”

“Cole,” Moira said wearily, looking over at the spirit with tired, dull eyes. “Will you sit with me? Just for a while?”

“For however long you need,” he replied as he sat down on the bed next to her, holding her in his arms. He hummed songs she remembered from her childhood, lullabies her mother would sing to her. “Summer sun, bare feet in green grass, mamae’s fragrant curls…”

“Cole…” she started, but whatever else she meant to say was taken over by tears, great gulping sobs that wracked her whole body. 

“Shhh,” he murmured as he rocked her back and forth in his arms. “Cry. Get it out. Sate your sadness.”

Moira sobbed until she felt bile in her throat and she couldn’t breath. She cried until she could cry no more. Cole wiped the tears from her face with his over-long sleeves. 

“Cole? Did you-did you know? Know who he was?”

“He blocked me out, turned my mind away. He was hiding, playing a part that he became, but it couldn’t last. No. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Cole. He fooled us all,” she whispered. “Even fooled me into thinking what we had was real. But it was all an act.”

“Not that. That was real. He didn’t mean to, but it was. The one shining light in the darkness. You made him doubt.”

“Not enough…”

"You focus too much on the hurt. Focus on healing. I'm here to help, help you like you have shown me."

Moira took a deep, shuddering breath as she tried to compose herself. “You’ll stay, won’t you? Please say you’ll stay.”

“Of course. This is where I can help.”


	5. Blackwall

Moira sat in bed with her knees pulled up to her chest, combing out her long curls. She cursed under her breath as she got caught in a tangle. There was a solid knock on the door and she dropped the comb in surprise. 

“Y-yes?” she called out. 

The door opened and Blackwall peeked in the room. “My lady? May I come in?”

“Of course, it’s good to see you, Bl-Thom.” She shook her head at her slip and he gave her a small smile. 

“I brought you flowers, but that seems silly now that I see you here, surrounded by flowers…” He frowned and shuffled his feet awkwardly. 

“They’re lovely, Thom. Thank you. Please, come in and take a seat.” He sat down in the plush arm chair beside the bed, laying the flowers on her end table. 

“I also brought you these…” He pulled out two delicately carved wooden halla and handed them to her. 

“Thom…” she said in wonderment. “They’re exquisite, truly.” 

“It’s nothing really, just something to keep my hands busy. But I thought they’d cheer you up,” he said. Her eyes grew misty as she beamed at him. “Now, now, my lady, don’t cry.”

She sniffed. “My mother gave me something similar when I was a child, before she died. I forgot it when I went to the Conclave…”

“Oh, I’m sure these are a poor replacement,” he said, wringing his hands. 

“No, no, of course not! They’re perfect, such a heartfelt gift.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, my lady?”

Moira nodded towards the potions on the end table. “Can you open one of those for me?” Thom uncorked a bottle and handed it to her, eyes lingering on her left arm for a few seconds, before quickly averting his eyes. “Thom, it’s okay,” Moira said, waving the what remained of her left arm between them. “This will just take some getting used to, for all of us. But I’m still me.”

“Of course, I realize that. I was just being foolish…” He shook his head. She grabbed one of his hands in her own, squeezing it. 

“Thank you for being here for me.”

“Always, my lady.”


	6. Solas

The thick healing potion made Moira’s eyelids heavy and sleep was never far behind. One moment she was talking to the head healer for the Imperial Court, a kind-faced, dark skinned woman of indeterminate age, and then next thing she knew, she stood in the Fade. It looked like one of the plains that her clan had camped in, near Starkhaven. She remembered there was a stream not far from here that she had fell in once as a child and gave her mother such a fright. 

“Ma vhenan…” came the voice from behind her. Moira whirled around to face Solas, her fist tightening instinctively. She set her jaw, jutting out her chin at him. Solas held out his hands in a calming gesture. “I mean you no harm.”

“Mean me no harm? Mean me-” She shook her head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You plan on destroying the world, but it’s okay, because you mean me no harm?” She scoffed, shaking her head once more. 

Solas’ mouth thinned in disapproval at her tone. “I stopped the mark from killing you, did I not?”

Moira rolled her eyes, lifting up the remains of her arm. “Yes, big improvement there…”

“Would you rather you had died?” Solas looked genuinely puzzled by her reaction. 

“No! I’d rather I was whole, though!” Tears sprang to her eyes and she looked away, towards the direction of that stream she remembered. She breathed out slowly, trying to calm herself down. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. 

“You have a chance, my friend, a chance to live your life while you can. That is a miracle in itself.”

“Fenedhis!” Moira hissed as she stepped forward with her fist up. Solas’ eyes widened and he took a step backwards just as she was about to connect with his chin. He looked rattled and Moira felt a vindictive pride at having shaken him. 

He smoothed his robes down, trying to regain his composure. “I do suppose your anger is...justified,” he said slowly. “But I can see that there is no point in trying to have a rational conversation with you.”

She stared him down, debating her next move. “No, there isn’t. There’s nothing left to say,” she said with a frown. 

He looked conflicted for a moment before he spoke again. “Farewell, Moira. Live well,” he said, then vanished, leaving Moira standing alone in the desolate field. Only then did she allow herself to break down and cry, falling to the grass and pulling her legs up to her chest.


	7. Vivienne

“My darling, you look dreadful.”

“I don’t care,” Moira said sweetly. “I want to walk out among them- the elite of Val Royeaux- with my limp and dirty hair, my gaunt face and red eyes. I want to hear their gasps and titters as they see my stump of an arm. Let them see what I’ve become.”

“You’ve grown melodramatic in your seclusion, my dear.”

“Why are you here, Vivienne? If I wanted to know how dreadful I really look, I’d glance in a mirror.”

“Because, although we disagree on much, I have, over the past few years, come to regard you as a friend.”

“Y-you what?” Moira sputtered. 

“My dear, must I repeat myself? How much healing potion have you been taking?”

“I, well, I thought you hated me.” 

“Hate you? Moira, my dear, of course I don’t hate you. On the contrary, I admire you greatly.”

“Likewise,” Moira said with a nod. 

“Wonderful. Now, I expect you properly dressed and presentable for tea tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

Moira groaned.


	8. Varric

“Well, shit, Freckles. I don’t know what to say.”

“Alert the town-criers, Varric Tethras is at a loss for words!” Moira joked. 

“Ha. Ha. But no, really, I’m glad you’re feeling better. Everyone was really worried.”

“Yeah, do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Skip over this part in the story. No one wants to read about how I wallowed for two weeks while out of my mind on healing potions…”

“What do you want me to say then?”

“I don’t know, just not the truth,” Moira said wearily. “No one wants the truth, not really. Whatever you make up will be so much better anyway. 

“Make shit up? What kind of writer do you think I am?”

“The best kind…” she said with a smile. 

“Damn straight,” he said with a brisk nod.


	9. Josephine

“Inquisitor?” came Josephine’s voice from the doorway, to no reply. Moira sat at the window, staring out at the gardens below. “Inquisitor?” Josephine asked in a slightly louder voice and Moira jumped. 

“Josie! I-I didn’t hear you come in, forgive me.”

“Of course, sorry to disturb you.”

“You didn’t. I was-I was just…” 

“Lost in thought?” Josephine supplied. Moira nodded with a frown. “I brought you something. Chocolates, since your appetite seems to be returning.” She held out a box topped with a bright green ribbon. 

“Oh, Josie, thank you!” She smiled, a sight Josephine was glad to see. Moira slipped off the ribbon and opened the box, lifting it close to her face to inhale the sweet fragrance. She looked up at Josephine, her smile turning sly before she plucking a chocolate from the box and popping it into her mouth. She closed her eyes in bliss, humming as the chocolate began to melt in her mouth. “Mmm,” she moaned. 

“They’re from the best chocolatier in the capital.”

“Then his reputation is well deserved! These are absolutely decadent!” 

Josephine beamed. “Well, I’m glad you like them.”

“Like them? I love them. Thank you, Josie. You’re too kind. What would I do without you?”

"Oh, I'm sure you would find a way to manage. You always do." 

"You do so much for me, Josie. I don't know how to thank you." 

Josephine's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Thank me?" 

“Josephine, I may be the Inquisitor, but you’re the backbone of the whole Inquisition. None of this would be possible without you, and from the bottom of my heart- thank you.”

Josephine’s eyes had grown misty and her hands fluttered in front of her. “I-I do not know what to say…”

“You don’t need to say anything. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you,” Moira said as she grasped one of Josephine’s hands in her own. 

“Well, I-thank you, or should it be, you’re welcome?” Josephine said with a raised brow.

Moira smiled, a lopsided effort, but one that Josephine appreciated nevertheless. Moira plucked another chocolate from the box before handing it to Josie.


	10. The End

It was done, the Inquisition was no longer. It was time to move on. It was hard, but Moira was certain she had made the right decision. She fidgeted, uncomfortable in her dress uniform. Hopefully this was the last time she’d have to wear the blasted thing. 

Dorian clasped her on her uninjured arm and she turned to smile at him. She knew he was leaving soon, and she couldn’t bear the thought of it. She knew that many of her friends would be going their separate ways now that the Inquisition wasn’t holding them together. Cole stepped forward through the crowd and laid a hand on Moira’s shoulder just as the tears started to well up and she turned to give him a tight hug. 

She saw Varric hand a book to Cassandra, who actually smiled back at him. Sera told a joke and Blackwall let out a bark of laughter. Her advisors talked amongst themselves. Vivienne reached over to smooth one of Moira’s wayward curls. What was she going to do without them? Without the Inquisition that had become her family? 

Slowly, her friends took their leave of her, leaving her alone, looking out over the balcony. She smiled sadly. There was still work to be done, but for now, all Moira wanted to do was rest. She rather thought she deserved that much.


End file.
